3. iHate Dances

Sam stared blankly at the television, her hand wrapped around the remnants of a drumstick, her feet up on the small coffee table. It wasn't an uncommon posture for her, except for the fact that the television wasn't on. She'd been staring at the blank screen for…well, she wasn't sure how long. Long enough to get through her bucket of chicken, but depending on the day (and how hungry she was, versus how much she wanted to savor every bite) that time frame could range from five minutes to two hours.

She chucked the drumstick into the bucket and realized she hadn't tasted a single bite.

This is crap. There must have been something wrong with it.

That seemed unlikely. Sam had eaten dozens—all right, hundreds—of these buckets since moving in with Cat and she had never in all that time had a problem with any of them. There had to be another explanation for the blandness of one of her favorite foods.

Sam noticed Cat's graduation gown reflecting in the television. She sighed.

Why won't she put that stupid thing somewhere else?

Sam didn't think she'd have to deal with it much longer. The graduation ceremony was at the end of next week. It wasn't a day she was looking forward to. If anyone but Cat had asked her to go, she'd have laughed them right out the door. But it was Cat, and as Sam had learned over the years, she had a very, very soft spot for Cat.

The notion bothered her. She hated connections and people. She learned well from her mother that you can't count on anyone. She almost forgot that lesson with Carly. She let herself get attached, let herself get close, and then Carly bailed and broke her heart.

Nevermind that Sam had told her to go. What else was she supposed to say? She loved the girl, she wasn't about to be selfish and stand in her way. But that was Sam's entire point. She hated that she was in that position in the first place. She hadn't expected it.

Years later, she found herself in a very similar situation. But with Cat, it was—

No. No, it's not the same. Shut up, already.

Sam got up and shook herself out of it.

Sever those ties, Puckett. Cat's gonna graduate, and she's gonna leave you. They all do. Don't be stupid enough to think otherwise. She's at school, just get the suitcase and get out.

Sam walked to the fridge and pulled out another can of Wahoo Punch. She popped it open, downed half of it, and slammed it on the counter.

The graduation gown hovered in her periphery. The harder she tried to avoid looking at it, the more presence it seemed to have.

Damn that thing.

Sam finished the rest of the can and crushed it against the counter. There was a satisfying metallic crunch as it collapsed under her considerable strength. Then she strode over to the graduation gown and unhooked it from the doorframe.

And of course, that's the moment Cat came in.

The redhead's gorgeous brown eyes scanned the room and settled on her. Sam never understood what it meant to have eyes that smile until she met Cat. Her doe-eyes were almost constantly aglow, radiating their own light-a light that brightened the moment they fell on Sam. She cursed under her breath as her heart stuttered.

The smile in Cat's eyes turned to confusion as she registered that Sam had her graduation robe in-hand.

"Whatcha doing with my gown?"

"Uuummmmm, just…seeing what it'd look like on me."

"Oh," Cat said. She took a few steps inside and dropped her book bag by the couch. Sam's words caught up to her a few seconds later. "Why? You don't go to my school."

"Which is why I'm seeing how it would look on me, since I won't have one of my own. Duh." Sam hung the gown back up. Next time, you're gone, she thought.

"Didn't you already graduate?"

"Technically, yes, I finished all my classes. I'll get my useless diploma in another week, I think."

"Hey, wouldn't it be funny if it came in on the same day I graduate? That would be pretty…uh…saran wrapidus."

Just like that, the funk Sam had found herself in began to lift. Cat's innocence always soothed her turmoil. It was irritating, but also a relief. Sometimes. "I think you mean serendipitous."

"Yeah, let's go with that."

Sam felt her resistance starting to buckle. Come on, Puckett. You've got to cut loose. Rather than heeding her own advice, she ambled into the kitchen and slid up onto a bar stool as Cat looked curiously at the crushed metal can.

"So how was school?"

"Learny," Cat said. "Oh, but Tori asked if I wanted to sing at the prom. I'm really excited about that."

"Prom?" Sam grunted. "Ew. I hate those things. Everyone making a big deal over nothing and spending way too much money on some trashy dresses and expensive suits only to end up with them rolled up on the floor of some hotel room or the backseat of some car and—" Sam felt Cat's eyes burning a hole into her and stopped her rant. She couldn't tell if Cat was confused or hurt or some mixture of both. "Let me guess. You love proms."

Cat nodded. "Tori's the whole reason we have them at all. Before she came there was never a prom at my school."

"I mean that's cool. You're allowed to love 'em. I just don't see the point." Sam felt immediately bad for her insensitive rant, and then immediately angry for feeling immediately bad. Goddamn, it's exhausting being here with her , she thought.

"Did you ever get asked?"

Sam's mind suddenly quit working. She couldn't think. She had a hard time making words. "Wh…what?"

"Did you ever get asked to a prom? Or any school dance?"

Don't answer that. Don't open yourself up. Don't share. Don't do it, Puckett.

"I went to a few dances back in Seattle. They were stupid."

You're an idiot, Puckett.

Cat went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. She struggled to get the cap off. Instinctively, Sam grabbed it and opened it for her. "Thanks," she said. "Maybe you just weren't asked by the right person. You know? If you're not doing something fun with the right person, it can seem like it's not a fun thing to do. But it might be fun and you just don't know because you're not there with the right person. You know?"

Sam swallowed. Why was her throat suddenly so dry? She hopped off the stool and grabbed another can of Wahoo Punch.

"Sam? You know?"

Sam sighed. She turned to Cat, who was suddenly much closer than she remembered. My god those eyes just go on forever… "I get what you're saying. You're probably right. I always ended up going with some creep or idiot. I've never had a lot of luck with the guys I've got out with."

"You and Freddie never—"

"No," Sam said, a little too aggressively. "No, we never went to any dances together. Probably would have had a terrible time. I really did love the doof, but that relationship…it wasn't meant to be."

"He wasn't your density."

"My what…?"

"Sssh. Listen." Cat placed a finger over Sam's mouth. She smelled like citrus, and the touch set Sam's lips on fire. She trembled as she held back from kissing Cat's finger. Sweat formed on her brow. She balled up her fists, her right hand threatening to crush the unopened can of Wahoo Punch. Damn it, this was not going well.

"Please move that," Sam said. She did her best to add a threatening edge to her voice, but in her mind she was pleading silently for a whole different reason. Please, for god's sake, move it before I do something stupid.

Cat withdrew the finger and Sam found her heart rate return to normal.

"Sorry. But listen. Come with me to mine. We'll have fun. And you'll get to hear me sing."

There went Sam's heart rate again.

"You want me to go to your prom with you?"

"That's what I said. It'd be a good time. You're always looking for a good time. And you don't even have to wear an expensive dress if you don't want."

Sam's throat was dry. She realized she was still holding her can of Wahoo Punch. She brought it to her lips to take a drink, but nothing came out. Cat laughed.

"What's so funny?"

Cat took the can from Sam's trembling hand and opened it. She smiled sweetly as she offered it back to her. Sam's legs were suddenly ready to give out.

"It's okay. I forget sometimes, too."

Sam took the can from Cat. Their fingers brushed for a moment. Sam struggled to break contact. She turned away and took a deep drink.

"So will you go?"

Sam sighed. "I mean…what are you asking? Is this like…I mean, what is this?"

Cat seemed confused. "It's me inviting you to come to my prom. We can hang out with my other friends."

"Friends? So that's what this? A friend thing?"

Cat seemed to hesitate. "I…well…yeah…yeah, sure. We're friends, right? And my other friends will be there. It'll be all…all kinds of friends."

Sam tried to read Cat, but she could barely register her own thoughts in that moment. The look of hope and eagerness in Cat's eyes was too much to bear. Even when Sam turned away, she couldn't shake it.

"Okay. I'll go."

Cat lit up. Her smile was infectious. "Will you come dress shopping with me? You know, for mine?"

"Don't push it."

"Kay, kay. I'm just excited you're going!"

Cat threw her arms around her neck and pulled Sam into a crushing embrace. If she could have caught her breath, she'd have reminded Cat for the millionth time that she wasn't a hugger. Instead, she found herself fighting a chill creeping up her spine as Cat's breasts pressed against her and the scent of her hair filled Sam's nostrils. She gently placed her one free hand against Cat's slender waist. In yet another moment of weakness, she wondered how it would feel to hold Cat's waist without the pesky top in the way.

You're an idiot, Puckett.